One Short Day
by Kat of Mosh Pits
Summary: Everyday is pretty much the same for Dib. What makes today different? What allows him to continue on harboring the hatred of his peers and still fight for them against Zim?


One Short Day

By Kat

**I**t isn't often that I feel as though I accomplished something at the end of the day. Isn't that what most people want, to lie in bed at night and think back on the day and say to themselves 'Today, I lived.' I feel as though I am running up a descending escalator. For every step I take, I fall back two. Running in slow motion, the world passes around me, oblivious. At night, I lie beneath my thin coversheet and think, not on today, but tomorrow. I focus on the next step, blindly rushing forward heedless of naught but my goal. This does not mark a life.

Once upon a time, I had a day.

Like most days, it began with a wakening. Shifting through layers of consciousness, I slowly reassemble what it means to be Dib. The questions roll across my mind, rehearsed.

Who am I?

Dib Membrane.

Where am I?

Home. In bed.

What am I?

Protector. Savior. A self-made barrier against the forces that threatened.

Threatened what?

Humanity. My way of life. My understanding of the universe.

When am I?

An hour from now. A minute from now. Anytime but now.

And so I wake, begin my day.

Breakfast spent with my family is a rare occurrence. Maybe, if we are lucky, our father is home once a week. Although the concept of his 'being home' is relative. His body may be at the table, at the stove or counter, but his mind is elsewhere, in a world of flashing lights and spinning gizmos.

My sister, too, disappears into an alternate world created by her handheld video games. Disturbance is met with pain.

Coping mechanisms, that's all it is. Gaz, with her games, me, with my paranormal, even Dad, with his Real Science, its all coping mechanisms designed to hide, fill, disguise the gap within ourselves. This thing that kept a barrier between us, kept us isolated from the real world.

What's so great about the real world, anyway? We were once a great race, full of charisma, ideas, and vigor. We created art with and on our bodies. There was beauty in the world, and we saw it. Not this cynical, grime-covered world. We once cared about our fellow man and not our own blind ambition.

I suppose I am not one to talk.

No wonder Zim finds this world, our race, disgusting. There is not much wonder left in our world. I grew disgusted with it years ago, that is why I turned my attention to the stars.

I go to skool. Once, in my spare time, I had researched ancient skools. I found some ancient websites, formally buried in hyperspace which talking about something called 'school'. In one of my chat groups I posted a question about that. A 'linglurv14345' replied about languages and how words evolved over time. At one point the 'ch' made a 'k' sound, so after nearly a century, the spelling changed. And thus even Language evolve.

Our skool-teacher, Ms. Bitters should frighten me. She is a very creepy…thing. There was a time when I was convinced she was an alien. That was before Zim arrived. After Zim came it no longer seemed important. Always move forward. Keep moving forward and the world won't crush you.

Zim was, is, my inspiration. My light at the end of the tunnel. I know that sounds strange, but in his existence he fundamentalizes all that I hoped. That there was something beyond this…horror of a planet.

We play out the day as usual. Although I focus on the new. This was new, this has never happened before. What was yesterday? Unimportant, only these next few minutes. They're what was unknown.

We were being especially vicious today. Something was off. Zim's comments, while always heated, held an inner fire that smoldered in the air. The atmosphere was charged.

"Filthy Dib-stink! You and your race are disgusting! A waste of a species condemned to filth!" he spat the usual insult.

"I will stop you, Zim!" I reply, as always. Not raising to the bait. I cannot argue against what he said, because it is all true.

Zim glared, a brief outline of red flickered around his eyelids as his contacts shifted. Something was different. Some realization, some thought was on Zim's mind.

"Why!"

"What?" I stumbled mentally at the change of pace.

"Don't you see how vile humans are? With all their goo and organs and messy…bits! I'd be doing the universe a favor by killing them!"

Yes, humans are vile, but not in the way Zim thinks. I have lived through some of the worst of humanity. Lived it day to day, going through a life as an outcast, despised by the same people I try to protect. Why is that? Zim seems confused by this.

"They hate you, you know."

"Yes."

"They'll lock you away someday. Beat you, betray you. Everything you try and work for, they'll destroy."

"Then they do."

"Why do you still try and save this pitiful excuse of a planet!"

I pause, considering.

"Because…once we were a beautiful race. Once we made wonderful things, not for the case of advancement, but only because they meant something. Because someone has to."

There may be no medal in this. I may die without anyone knowing what I've done. I continue to struggle regardless, forever pressing forward, trying to outrace Them. The people who call themselves human, sane. What is humanity without hopes or dreams? Only a slave to its baser needs. Ms. Bitters once told us it didn't matter what we wanted out of life. Our dreams meant nothing, we can only accept what is given to us and never want for more. Humanity may have lost its hope, fumbling in circles in the dark, but I have seen the light at the end of the tunnel. I am rushing towards it, because without light there is no hope. So I will continue to thwart Zim at every pass, in hopes that one day I will get hold of that light and stop, turn around and face the dark. Like Prometheus when he stole fire from the gods, I will return it to Earth, and we shall have our light again.

Because if I don't, who will?


End file.
